Christmas Surprises
by princessofthescoundrels
Summary: A drunk Professor McGonagall visits Dumbldore to give him a Christmas Present! Challenge fic, rated for a tipsy Transfiguration professor! Prisoner of Azkaban.


**This was a challenge given to me by Hyperpotterprincess, the challenge was, "McGonagall is a bit tipsy after the Prisoner of Azkaban Christmas dinner… must include humor!"**

**So I hope you find this humorous. Otherwise I get yelled at! *winks***

**Enjoy!**

"Comin'…" Minerva McGonagall slurred slowly, a bottle of firewhisky clutched in her hand. Her glasses were askew and the man to whom she was addressing was her employer. "Comin' join us Al..BUS!..." The Transfiguration teacher was drunk beyond all belief and relying heavily on the sturdiness of Albus Dumbledore's door opening.

The man himself was in the process of putting away an unidentifiable gold instrument on one of his many shelves. He stared at his second- in- command in astonishment, peering disbelievingly over his half moon spectacles. It was easy to see why; the woman was a mess.

The tight bun that was usually wrapped around her head like a snake was half down, cascading in a white- gray river down her back and shoulders. The top two buttons of her dress were open and the way she was leaning suggested that at least one heel of her boot was missing.

"Of all the people to be drunk on Christmas," Dumbledore told the staggering teacher after he had collected his bearings. "I would have thought that you would be the last, Minerva."

McGonagall plopped herself down in a chair, hunchbacked and legs parted. "I know…" she trailed and took another swing of firewhiskey. "Wha- what's in this stuff anywho?" she murmured to herself in a loud whisper. She stared down into her bottle solemnly, then remembering where she was, she held up the bottle to Dumbledore.

He made a disgusted face and shook his head. "No thanks Minerva, I tend to enjoy waking up in the morning _without _a splitting headache."

"Gah!" she screeched suddenly, throwing her arms up into the air. "Who cares! It's Christmas!"

Dumbledore now was trying to contain his laughter. "Maybe so, but I do not have to wake up tomorrow and teach students."

McGonagall pushed her glasses further down her nose and looked up at him, waving a finger. "Ah, Dumbledear, you forget! Break lasts for another week!" She took another long drink out of the bottle.

Truth be told, he found this Minerva adorable, but he kept a stern face as he replied to her, "But we must keep all our senses on alert for Sirius Black!"

"Oh pooh that Blacky Wacky!" she giggled at her own joke. "Besides Dumby, there are only ten other students in the ente… enti…" she frowned, unable to get the word out. "whole castle!"

"I expect you to take the day off tomorrow," he informed her.

"Oh Dumbledore," she shook her head in mock sorrow. "You know what your *hic* problem is?" She attempted to stand up, but fell back down on the chair and giggled. "You're such an old coot, you don't know how to have fun!" she tried to give him the bottle again. This time Dumbledore took it with the air of confiscating a stink pellet and placed it on his desk, far from her reach.

When he turned around, she was standing up on the chair, wiggling her hips and trying to do an old Scottish jig. He made an uncharacteristic snort and strode up to her in order to pull down the shirt that was quickly traveling up her thigh.

"Minerva, really!"

The teacher glared down at him and exaggeratedly placed her hands on her hips. "Albus, really!"

"You're going to vomit if you keep on doing that!" he held out a hand for her. She jumped down with a glint in her eye.

"Keep doing what?" she asked innocently. "Oh you mean _this!_" she hoisted her shirts up again and began dancing. Dumbledore shook his head and suddenly she dropped on the floor holding her stomach.

"Are you alright?" Dumbledore was concerned.

"You know they have betting pools?" McGonagall asked him miserably, ignoring his question. He furrowed his white eyebrows in confusion. "'Bout you and me. In the teachers' lounge." Her head was in one of her hands.

"Honestly Minerva," Dumbledore was beginning to get impatient. "You can't possibly care about that sort of thing?"

She nodded her head vigorously, like a child. "But I do! I went there this morning *hic* and I saw Pomona Sprout putting a betting slip into a box! She said we'd be between the sheets in a month." Miserably, she grabbed Dumbledore's beard and began dabbing at her eyes. Dumbledore frowned down at her, knowing she wouldn't have behaved like this if not under influence.

"It's alright," he patted her back awkwardly. "The main thing we have to worry about is keeping Harry safe."

She glared at him. "That's all you ever talk about! Harry, Harry, Harry, Voldemort. Voldemort, Harry, Harry. I hate it!" she pounded her fists on her legs and sighed.

Dumbledore was getting rather tired of seeing Minerva act like this and sighed. "Minerva dear, you're acting like a child."

"Remember when we used to go to Hogsmeade during holidays?" she whispered with a drunken slur. "Remember the mistletoe…*hic*" she was now sobbing and Dumbledore rolled his eyes.

"My dear, we are in the midst of a war! I do not have time for such foolishness."

Minerva scoffed. "Don't I know it." She wiped her nose on her hand, much to Dumbledore's chagrin. Then she perked up and stood abruptly. "You know how you gave me that hat this morning?" he nodded, suspicious. "Well, I didn't get anything for you!"

He hastily shrugged. "That's alright, I mean you do my bills and everything…" but she interrupted him.

"Happy Christmas Albus Dumbledore!" Minerva McGonagall kissed the headmaster full on the mouth, throwing one arm over his shoulder. It was sloppy and brief but Dumbledore looked astonished nevertheless.

She strode over to the door in what she thought to be a sexy way, but only looked foolish with her broken heel and tarnished skirt. As she staggered down the stairs Albus could have sworn she said, "Bugger, I've always wanted to do that."

It was hardly a secret why Dumbledore couldn't get a wink of sleep that night, and in the morning he was greeted by an owl and no Minerva McGonagall in sight.

He unfastened the letter from the bird and sat down on the very same chair the Transfiguration teacher danced on the night before.

_Dumbledore,_

_I apologize for anything that may have happened last night. For obvious reasons I can't remember a moment of it. I hope you'll see past this dreadful incident and not let it tarnish what you think of me. Hagrid gave me the firewhiskey, if that makes you feel any better._

_Happy Christmas,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

"Don't worry Professor McGonagall," the old man whispered to himself and folded the note. "You are most forgiven."

**I never knew how much fun writing a drunk McGonagall would be.**


End file.
